


Sam/Cas Drabbles

by dreamsofspike



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofspike/pseuds/dreamsofspike
Summary: A collection of my drabbles for the pairing Sam/Castiel from Supernatural.





	1. 30 Words

**#12 - Prompt:** Supernatural, Sam/Cas, any  
 **Fill** :  Sam's patient. Gentle. Doesn't point out all the ways Cas is stupid about humans. With a shy, tentative kiss, Castiel quietly makes his choice - and it's easier than he thought.


	2. Epiphany

Of course – _of course_ the one thing that would snap Dean out of the Blade’s thrall was the death of his little brother.   
  
Even though – perhaps _especially_ because that death was at his own hand.   
  
Sam’s eyes stared up, wide and shocked, unnaturally bright, bright red blood bubbling past his lips as Dean sank to his knees beside him, the Blade falling from his shaking hand.   
  
“Sam?” Dean whispered, shaky and lost. “Sammy?”   
  
Castiel pulled himself up off the floor a few yards away. The Blade and the Mark had somehow imbued Dean with an unnatural level of strength, and a single blow had sent the weakened angel flying. He stumbled back to where Dean was now holding his brother in his arms, tears streaking his face as he sobbed out “Sam” and “no” and “sorry” again and again, panic in his voice as it rose in speed and pitch.   
  
He looked up at Cas with desperate, pleading eyes. “You gotta help him, Cas,” he whispered, his voice trembling, breaking. “I didn’t mean to – please, you gotta help him!”   
  
Castiel knelt on the floor beside Sam, wincing and holding an arm across his aching ribs. His heart sank as he saw that the light had already gone out of Sam’s eyes, his body still, lungs no longer struggling for breath.   
  
He was gone.   
  
Castiel’s grace was waning, nearly completely depleted at this point, but he thought perhaps he had just enough left to bring Sam back. He reached out a hand and placed it gently against Sam’s head, closing his eyes and focusing every shred of power he had left on healing the damage the First Blade had done.   
  
A searing heat flowed from deep in his chest, through his hand and into Sam, and vivid images filled Castiel’s mind – images of past moments he had shared with the younger Winchester.   
  
_“I know you’re still one of us…”  
  
“Everything you did, you did it to help…”  
  
“This is the part where you hug back, Cas…”_   
  
Tears sprang to Castiel’s eyes, and he found himself sending out a desperate prayer, despite the fact that he didn’t really think anyone was listening anymore – a prayer that he had enough strength left to help the one person who’d always believed in him, from the moment they first met – even when he’d ceased to believe in anything, himself. The person who’d been a friend to him when no one else would be.   
  
The person that he loved, he realized, abruptly and completely – and perhaps too late.   
  
_Please… please, even if it’s all I’ve got… even if it means my life… please, don’t let him be gone…_  
  
Sam drew in a deep, desperate breath – and Castiel collapsed to the floor, gasping himself, a bright, burning pain consuming his entire being. _Everything_ hurt, and Castiel was certain that he was dying – again – until slowly, far too slowly, the pain faded out, leaving him aware only of his harsh, panting breaths… the thudding beat of his heart in his chest…   
  
… the sudden, unmistakable _awareness_ of _everything_ that meant that he was…   
  
… _human_.

Dean clutches at Sam, sobbing like a broken child, making promises and begging forgiveness. But Sam is staring at Cas, eyes wide and wondering, as if seeing him for the first time – and suddenly Castiel wonders just how much he shared with the younger Winchester with the last of his grace. Finally, Sam’s eyes lower to the Blade on the floor, and Cas remembers that this isn’t over yet.   
  
He reaches down and picks it up, watching Dean warily.   
  
Dean doesn’t even notice.   
  
It’s as Castiel suspected; Dean has fulfilled the Mark’s requirement of him – he killed his younger brother, as Cain did millennia ago. Its hold over him should be gone – and Castiel thinks if he could see Dean’s arm right now, he’d see that it’s clear and whole, no longer seared with the Mark of Cain.   
  
The Mark gone – the blade nothing more than an old scrap of bone.   
  
And Castiel... alive, miraculously... but an angel no longer.   
  
He busies himself putting the Blade away in a safe place, nonetheless, locked into a box that’s warded against being opened by any demon or angel – not because he thinks it’s still dangerous, but because he wants to give Sam and Dean a chance to talk. And they do, about all the things they should have dealt with so long ago, clearing the air between them and mending the parts of their relationship that are broken and damaged.   
  
It’s hours later when he’s in the kitchen, doing his best to figure out how to make them something to eat, that he feels Sam enter before he hears or sees him – turns on his heel to see him standing in the doorway.   
  
Suddenly, he can’t speak. His mouth is dry, his heart racing, his mind acutely aware of Sam’s eyes, intent and inscrutable, focused completely on Castiel. He swallows hard, lips parting, trying to think of something to say – but Sam is already headed toward him, his stride sure and swift. Before Cas can react, Sam puts an arm around his waist, pulling him in close and off balance. Sam’s other hand cups the back of Cas’s head – strong and firm, holding him in place as Sam lowers his head and captures Cas’s mouth with his own.   
  
Cas freezes, stunned and disbelieving – and then _melts_ under the heat of Sam’s gentle onslaught, his own shaking hands rising to Sam’s shoulders as finally regains enough presence of mind to return the kiss.   
  
This, he knows he’s good at. He doesn’t know much about… _much_ , but he _knows_ he knows how to kiss.   
  
If the warm, soft, pleased smile on Sam’s lips is any indication, when he finally pulls away, leaving Cas breathless and wanting.   
  
Sam’s voice is hushed and low, his eyes dark with want and warm with affection, as he leans in and speaks into Cas’s ear.   
  
_“I love you, too.”_


	3. Relief

Sam always knows when he needs it – when the weight of his choices, the guilt of his mistakes, bears down on him until he thinks he’ll die from the pain – until he wishes he _would_.  
  
Free will becomes his burden; Sam knows how to lift it.  
  
Strong hands press at his shoulders, a voice low and stern in his ear.  
  
“Kneel.”  
  
Castiel wordlessly drops, eyes lowered, waiting.  
  
Sam won’t stop until he’s weeping, the mental tightrope he’s been walking snapped, guilt and relief poured out freely.  
  
Sam holds him, hears his whispered, tremulous, “ _Thank you…_ ”… and kisses away his tears.


	4. Blind Date

“Trust me,” Sam whispers, close to his ear.  
  
Sam leads him through darkness. Sam stops him, strips him, eager fingers trailing shivers over his skin, pushes him down on soft, downy warmth.  
  
“I’m quite certain,” Cas states, smiling, “that this is not what is typically meant by a ‘blind date’.”


	5. Powerless

Powerless, _human_ now, Cas's wrists flex uselessly against Sam's grip, and he whimpers, helpless, pleading - but he's pleading for _more_.  
  
And that _does things_ to Sam that he'd never anticipated.  
  
He eases his grip just slightly, leans down to kiss up the line of Cas's jaw before whispering, a soft brush of breath against Cas's ear, "Shhh, be patient, angel... and let me take care of you."


	6. Wasn't Supposed to Happen

Cas has just always sort of been _there_... patiently waiting, ready to jump every time Dean asks for help, eager to prove his worth, quietly desperate for Dean to _notice_ the feelings he can't quite comprehend, much less put into words.  
  
Dean _does_ notice - he's just too freakin' terrified to do anything but pretend that he doesn't, because what would it mean, what would it _change_ if he stepped across that line, with _Cas_?  
  
He'll never know now, he knows, because of the shy smile and glow in their eyes, the way Sam's hand brushes Cas's as they get their morning coffee, the way Cas blushes at the contact and ducks his eyes, and all Dean can think is that he _waited too long_ \- and this wasn't the way it was supposed to end.


	7. Wish

They choose the date he was turned human.

Dean worries that it might only bring back painful memories for him. Sam says that’s exactly why they need to take it back, make it about something better.

Cas doesn’t tell them that becoming human, even against his will, was the best thing that ever happened to him.

This tradition – brightly wrapped presents and cake and candles – is primarily for children, but they argue he’s technically only two human years old.

He closes his eyes, blows them out.

Lips press against his, sugar sweet like icing.  
  
He smiles. His wish came true.


	8. Next Time

Castiel – the quiet, nerdy student with that weird coat he wears everywhere and his odd monotone way of speaking and his wide, staring eyes – always staring, and so, so blue, that once caught by them, Sam can’t seem to look away – he doesn’t know what it is about him, but Sam can’t seem to stop thinking about him.   
  
He’s a coward, too afraid of stepping outside the established boundaries of high school society, too desperate to “fit in”, to be “normal”; that’s why he doesn’t do anything when he sees one of the other guys on the football team shove Castiel up against the lockers, sending his books and papers scattering to the floor, before walking away, laughing.   
  
He does go to Castiel, though, and help him pick up his books and gather his things, grateful for the chance his cowardice has afforded him, and guilty that he’s grateful; but the knowing look in Castiel’s eyes, the hesitance, because why would Sam talk to him? – it all works together to make Sam decide that next time, he won’t be afraid to stand out or stand up – next time, he’ll be the man that Castiel deserves.


	9. Blush

Sam discovers, to his delight, that it's all too easy to make Cas blush.   
  
A few whispered, teasing words make the ex-angel's eyes go wide, and then he's looking down, smiling uncertainly, biting the side of his lip as he glances back up at Sam, a look that's somewhere between shy and smoldering.   
  
Sam's suddenly not laughing anymore, but reaching for the buttons on Cas's shirt, encouraged when Cas reaches down to help; he wants to see just how far that sweet blush goes.


	10. Green with Envy

It makes him feel sick.  
  
It's not like they don't deserve it - Sammy and Cas, after everything they've been through, all that they've lost.  
  
It's not like it doesn't make sense. After all, no one can quite understand the mistakes Sam's made in pursuit of the greater good, like Cas can - and vice versa. There's moments when Dean sees them looking at each other with a level of understanding that he can't seem to reach when it comes to either of them anymore.  
  
And _that_ \- that's what the problem is. That's why Dean can't quite bring himself to be genuinely, wholeheartedly happy for them.  
  
Because he can't help feeling like when Sam and Cas finally found each other - he lost them both.


	11. Afraid of the Dark (50 Words)

He can't _see_ in the darkness anymore - not like he could when he was an angel.  
  
It feels like a heavy, breathing thing, smothering him - until Sam's arms wrap around him, lips brushing his ear and whispering,  
  
"It's okay, Cas. I've got you. Just close your eyes; before you know it, it'll be morning."


	12. Protection

Dean is as closed off as Sam's ever seen him, won't even look at him, after the bunker door slams with a deafening sense of finality. Dean's emotions are usually all over his face, whether he wants them to be or not - but right now, they're walled off behind a cold mask of false indifference.   
  
Sam doesn't know how he's doing it - because he never even _knew_ their Mom - and he feels like he's about to fall apart.   
  
He opens his mouth to speak, but can't find the words, and Dean closes his eyes as if to preemptively shut them out - so instead, Sam just turns and heads toward the silent solitude of his room.   
  
Cas is already there, sitting on the end of his bed and looking up at him with sad, solemn eyes.   
  
He already knows. Of course he does. Sam isn't sure how - but he's not surprised.   
  
As if reading his mind, Cas says softly, "She prayed for you. You and Dean. That you'd be safe, that I'd - watch over you."   
  
Sam lets out a choked but genuine laugh through tears as he sits down next to Cas. "Did you tell her you already do?"   
  
Cas smiles sadly, reaching out to touch Sam's hand, and with that touch releasing the hot tears that have been building in Sam's eyes. There's relief, even though the sorrow, as Cas replies.   
  
"She is at peace, knowing that you are under my protection. And Sam..." Cas waits until Sam is looking up at him, blinking tears away until he can clearly see the solemn promise behind Cas's words. "... _she_ is under my protection as well. I hope you know that."   
  
Relief floods over Sam, because although his heart aches for what he's lost - again - he knows that someday, she'll come safely back to them. 


	13. Candlelight Dinner

Cas has never prepared a candlelit dinner... or _any_ kind of dinner... or even been on anything remotely resembling a date before.   
  
His lasagna is half-burnt, half-raw, he forgets the garlic bread under the broiler until it fills the kitchen with smoke, and in his haste to get it out, he knocks over one of the candles and sets the tablecloth on fire.   
  
He's standing amidst the mess, frustrated tears on his face, overwhelmed with new human emotions that he has no idea how to control, when Sam walks in - taking one look at the scene before him before crossing the room with a purposeful stride and folding Cas into the secure strength of his arms...  
  
... and suddenly, nothing else matters but the warmth blooming through Cas's chest, filling him up with the certainty that somehow, this is still going to be the best night of his young human life.


	14. Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One-Sentence Fic

Cas likes the kind with pineapple on it, even if Dean grumbles that it's just unnatural - but Sam smiles and snags a slice as he walks by, remarking, "One more thing we've got in common, angel..."


	15. Angel Blood (dark!Sam)

It starts by accident.   
  
The heated aftermath of battle, Cas bleeding in Sam's arms, a thoughtless swipe of Sam's hand across his own mouth and the briefest - oh, God,  _sweetest_  taste...  
  
Better than demon blood, the surge of power more intoxicating..  
  
The first time is an accident - but Sam knows instantly, it will by no means be the last.  
  
He trails his fingers through the glistening red on Cas's skin, and Cas makes a distressed sound, pulls away. "Sam...  _don't_..."  
  
He's too weak. Sam thinks he might keep him that way for a while... just until he's had his fill.


	16. Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 50-word Fill for prompt: "prayer"

Cas is lost to them - forever, Dean believes.   
  
Sam can't accept that.   
  
He steps outside, seeking privacy for a heartfelt prayer, not for his own salvation - but for the one he's praying to.  
  
"It's not too late, Cas," he whispers, tears in his eyes. "You can still come home.  _Always_."


End file.
